You Aren't Allowed to Go
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Draco hates hospitals, especially if it meant visiting Harry because he'd gotten hurt-again.


_**Written for the 'Color Competition' by Empress Empoleon for the category 'white, negative' (write about someone being hospitalized). Who is in the hospital more than our favorite Quidditch player? (No, not Oliver Wood...or Krum...or Fred and George...just...stuff it.)**_

_**Don't own HP, mostly because I'd probably terrorize the world if I did own it. And, yes, this is another Drarry. Don't question the Drarry.**_

….

Draco didn't want to be here. Not _here_, not when the walls were too white, and the whole place smelled like cleaning supplies. Not when the pictures shouted out advice, or said he looked too peaky. And he especially did not want to be here when the Healer was leading him to a small bed in the 'Spell Damage Ward', saying things might look a little bad, that Harry might not be awake.

Draco _hated _hospitals. He hated the way they made him feel so sad, and the fact that the entire building reminded him of death. Of the _possibilities _of death. Of_Harry's death. _Harry wasn't allowed to die, he wasn't allowed to leave Draco alone. That wasn't _right_, that wasn't _fair. _Harry wasn't allowed to just _leave _Draco alone, to face the world without someone to hold his hand.

"Now, should Mr. Potter be awake, I don't want you to barrage him with questions. No doubt he'll be drowsy or confused, and we don't want to get him riled up because you're asking a dozen questions at once." said the Healer, a thin-faced woman who opened the ward door, ushering Draco inside. He was anxious and his hands were sweating, Draco noticed, wiping his hands on his trousers.

He could see a red-headed girl, a blonde girl, and a girl with brown hair all gathered around one of the last beds. There were also a few other people-boys around Draco's age. Men, really, though he didn't see them that way-but Draco paid little attention to them. All he could focus on was the figure on the bed, sleeping.

"What is _he _doing here?" snarled a red-headed boy that Draco recognised as Ron Weasley. The Gryffindor looked tired and worn, as if he'd been here all night. He watched Granger elbow Weasley, mumbling something in his ear.

"Is he okay?" Draco asked, coming closer. Weasley-both Ron _and _Ginny-glared at him, as if _daring _him to touch Harry. Draco had forgotten how Harry used to date Ginny-how she seemed to be under the impression that Harry still loved _her_, despite the fact that he was engaged to Draco.

"Nobody asked you to be here, Malfoy." Ron said, his face red. Draco raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a look of mock surprise before coming directly up to the bed, stroking Harry's pale cheek. His fingers brushed up against the light stubble on Harry's chin from several days of not shaving.

"It's nice to see you, too, Weasley, Granger." He nodded at both of them cordially, his fingers still playing with Harry's skin, his hair. As if Draco had to memorize _exactly _what Harry looked like, felt like, just in case. _You're not allowed to go, you git. You can't leave me here, alone._

"Hello, Malfoy." said Granger respectfully. He didn't miss the fact that she had one fit on Weasley's foot and a hand gripping his shirt. He would have sniggered, but now wasn't the time or place. This was a somber moment, one that called for being mature. Because Harry was sleeping on a hospital bed and there were two red-haired Weasleys looking ready to murder him right now. Draco's hand dropped from Harry's face as he sighed. Why did the Weasleys seem to have this insane idea that Draco was only here to hurt Harry? He was only stopping by to make sure his love was okay. They didn't have to turn this all into a big fight, like school children.

"Is he okay?" Draco repeated, looking at Granger. She nodded, smiling. At least _Granger_understood. At least that was one person he could could on to be semi-reasonable. She realised that it was ridiculous to hate him, especially since Harry and Draco were always together now. _I'm not leaving any time soon, you know._

"The Healer said he should wake up pretty soon-by tomorrow, probably-but we're not supposed to bother him."

"I heard that, too." Draco said, nodding.

"Then you should leave, Malfoy. You _are_very bothersome." said Weasley rudely, but Draco only shrugged, plopping into an empty chair. He took Harry's hand in his, squeezing it a few times, feeling the muscles moving underneath his worn skin. _He had kissed this hand just days ago._

"Do you know what happened?" Draco asked, still not looking at Ron or Ginny. Luna Lovegood sat across from him quietly. She hadn't said a word yet, just sitting there, smiling. It was like she didn't have a care in the world-and maybe she just _didn't_, not in her world of fantasy and rainbows.

"Not really. Even the Healers aren't really sure, I think. We'll have to wait for Harry to wake up to find out, to be honest."

"Oh," Draco muttered, brushing Harry's bangs from his eyes. "Well, he better wake up soon, or else." Draco leaned in closer, murmuring something in Harry's ear for only the unconscious boy to hear. "_You aren't allowed to leave yet, Harry. Don't you dare go._"

Draco wasn't ready to release Harry from his grip just yet. Or ever.


End file.
